


The Red Witch

by GameDragoon



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Short One Shot, witch celica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameDragoon/pseuds/GameDragoon
Summary: She plagued his dreams ever since he saw that fleeting vision.He yearns for her, but he never even met her.





	The Red Witch

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Just a One-shot that came to me. I hope you read and enjoy.

He had heard of the witch, a cold heartless monster that took the guise of a beautiful woman. The rumors only continued to spread after her first appearance ten years ago. When he fought the gods to finish the age of corruption, and usher in an age of mortality. The legendary crusade had dubbed him as the Holy King, but truth be told, he was no more than a face of the people who fought for the new era. He did not want the title, but the historians and artists romanticized the ideals of the collective people into one figure.

 

The wise Saint and mighty King stared off into the distance; perched atop his throne. He had recently received word of a witch, a wicked demon birthed by the same gods that were slain long ago. That act caused magic and fantasy to vanish from the world, yet somehow this remnant still lingered. His court had no insight as to how she exists in the age of men. His knights could not stand up to her cruel spells. His kingdom began to fear this figure. She represented the dark yoke the gods strangled mortals with, and yet, she took the appearance of a woman, cold and distant. However, it was not a look of apathy, but a look of tiredness. She looked like she was a prisoner to an unseen chain, and that she was treated like a doll to be toyed with.

 

He knew this because he had seen her face himself. It happened during his campaign against the gods. He remembered a woman crying, with an elegant dress and vibrant red locks, but he cannot tell when it happened. Was that woman in the tower, or was she in the village where he grew up? The king did not know when he laid eyes upon the woman. Was she even real? Did he truly see her or was she made up of a fragmentary mind; piecing together incoherent thought as dream? The King could never know. He only knew of her cold, lifeless face buried under exquisite beauty.

 

He had many dreams of her, all with the same end.

_ He is drifting in a void filled with azure fog. Blue clouds roll in the distance, and he is all alone. He wanders in this surreal plane, with no direction, no idea of where he is going. Soon he witnesses a flash. He runs to it, wondering what disturbed the tranquility of this realm. When he gets to his destination, he freezes. The same woman who has eluded his rational memory was there in front of him. _

 

_ She truly was beautiful, for the emptiness in her had been filled with a warmth that matched her radiating hair. It waved with an unseen breeze, and held all the colors of sunset. Her skin was milky white, and had the smoothness and complexity of porcelain. She had a long flowing crimson dress and gloves that went up her arms to match. The dress was loose around her slim figure and strapless, causing it to appear to be held in place by magic. She was absolutely divine. _

 

_ The King Gazed at her and her at him. She looked at him like he was not a stranger, but a friend. Perhaps even a lover. But that illusion wouldn’t last. Her face shifted from loving and longing to hollow yet again. The strange void started to change. The tranquil blue darkened and twisted into a blood red. Wind picked up and threatened to blow the King away. The air that once smelled like lavender now smelt like ash and smoke. The woman held her arms out towards the King, and watched as the flames spewed forth from her and engulfed the King. _

 

The King had grown accustomed to waking from a nightmare of being burned alive. However, he could never grow used to the unnatural shift her mannerisms and emotions underwent. That woman killed him every night, yet he kept yearning to see her face again. He knew that the woman from his dreams and the witch that attacked his kingdom were one and the same.

 

_ How did he know that? He doesn’t know anything about this new witch. _

 

His heart was plagued by this woman. She wasn’t a witch, she just wasn’t.  He gazed upon her and saw a vulnerability; a weakness. She was not a demon, but in actuality, a mortal. Was he blinded by his heart or was she truly in need of help? In need of someone to help her? No matter how many times he told himself it was irrational, there was a need for that woman.

 

That night the castle’s King left. He left to go to the witch, even when he had no directions. He simply wandered until he felt her presence, her flash. He ran in the night, the moonlight causing the clouds to turn to a shade of dreamy blue. He felt her in the recesses of his being, and it felt so  _ perfect _ . It felt like they were close in the past. Or the future? Was it another realm altogether? He was snapped out of his musings when he found her.

 

She was every bit as flawless as his heart made her out to be. She shone in the midnight, looking ethereal. The aroma of lavender drifted in the air.

 

For a moment, time stopped. Then he walked towards her. She gazed back at him. They began to hold each other, and both realized that they belonged together. The way they fit together and their breath synced was unreal. That moment, of them together, was perfect. The king looked at her and she looked at him. They both remembered each other in a different time and silently vowed to each other three words.

 

_ I love you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I would appreciate any feedback so please leave a comment.


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